Madison Square Garden
by whereJIJisalive
Summary: Kurt/Blaine future!fic. The loss had been too great for both of them, and somehow, they couldn't turn to each other with it. Ten years down the line, what has changed? ABANDONED.
1. The flashing of the lights

_**A/N: It's pretty much an angsty future!fic with lots of flashbacks. I've been getting a bit of writer's block lately so this is my attempt to relieve it. It might suck. Or not. I'm not making any promises that it will get finished soon(what with school having just started up again) but currently I'm very positive. I'll hopefully be updating once a week or so(I'll do this like a grown-up and not post all the 3 chapters finished so far at once). Also, this is the longest chapter yet, just so you know x) Anyway, I hope you like it! Maybe even so much that you'll drop me a review?**_

****Madison Square Garden: Chapter 1****_**  
><strong>_

Blaine had always planned to go see Kurt in the things he took part in when they were older, but somehow a sold-out concert in Madison Square Garden wasn't what he had expected. He was stood in a sea of fans, who all loved Kurt for his voice, for his looks, for his profile as a world-wide artist. Blaine still kind of loved him for who he was. Even though they had lost contact ten years earlier.

They never actually broke up. They just stopped seeing each other. Blaine never thought that would happen.

* * *

><p><em>Kurt smiled and looked at his boyfriend from the passenger seat. Blaine wasn't looking at the road anymore, he was smiling back at Kurt, nothing but love in his eyes.<em>

"_Blaine," he giggled, "keep your eyes on the road!" _

_The older boy tore his eyes away from the person he knew was his soul mate, and focused on his driving once more. "I can't help it if you're sitting there being all adorable!" he defended himself and earned a swat on the shoulder. "And don't distract me while I'm driving," he chastised, smiling. _

_Kurt loosened his belt and reached over to Blaine, giving him a peck on the cheek. "I could distract you _so _much more," he whispered in a husky voice, lips hovering millimeters over Blaine's ear. Not quite satisfied that Blaine was flustered enough, he looked down at his boyfriend's crotch, covered in skinny jeans he was no doubt regretting at this point, and met Blaine's hazel eyes once more. _

"_Babe, I think you should sit down," Blaine said in a high-pitched voice to rival Kurt's. _

_Kurt did as he suggested, while Blaine took a deep breath. He was about to say something to Kurt about irresponsible passengers when Kurt's phone started ringing. _

"_Kurt Hummel," he answered. "Oh, hi Carole, what's..." Kurt sounded as if he had been cut off and was silent for a minute. "What?" he said, horrified, and without even looking at him Blaine could tell he was close to crying. "No! Of course! We're on our way. Don't worry," Kurt was now sobbing. "Yeah. See you soon. It's going to be fine, Carole. He's going to be fine!" Kurt hung up and stared out of the window for a second. He was crying silently, but intensely._

"_Kurt?" Blaine looked at him again, feeling more worried than he ever thought he could. Kurt didn't answer, and Blaine was getting frustrated. "Kurt! Tell me what she said." _

_Kurt finally looked at him, eyes bloodshot. "We have to go back!" he said, choking on the words. "It's my dad."_

_Blaine let out the breath he didn't know he was holding, and started searching for the next place to turn around. They had just been in Lima on a holiday, since Kurt had recently graduated from college. They hadn't seen the Hummel/Hudsons since the day before, though, because they had been staying with Mercedes the last night. He swiftly turned the car around and started flooring it to get back as quickly as they could. "Is he in the hospital?" he asked softly, doing his best to be strong for Kurt. _

"_Yeah," Kurt said weakly as he nodded. He hadn't stopped crying since he received the phone call, and all Blaine wanted to do was hold him. He settled for the only thing he could do in his current capacity and reached his hand out for his boyfriend to take. Kurt took it gratefully in both hands, and Blaine startled at how chilled they had become. _

_Neither of them knew how bad this was going to be, but Blaine was preparing for the worst._

* * *

><p>The lights on the stage started flicking like crazy, and after a few notes of one of Kurt's most famous songs rang out, he appeared on the stage. It was a sight for sore eyes. He was wearing tight, leather pants and a white t-shirt sprinkled with glitter. His eyes were lined with black eyeliner and one of the dancers was helping him into a long, dark red coat. Blaine stood, stunned to silence, among the screaming fans. He was standing fairly close to the stage, but he still had to crane his neck around some taller people's heads to get a good view of his former boyfriend. The music stopped dramatically, and for a second, the screaming did too. Kurt raised the microphone to his lips.<p>

"Hi, everyone," he said simply, and the music started up again. Kurt started singing, and Blaine was reminded of how amazing it sounded. He heard Kurt's songs on the radio almost every day – as an extra on Wicked he also helped set up the stage every night, and when they did that the speakers were always on full blast – but live it sounded so different. So much more alive. And it sparked so many memories with Blaine.

Some of the fans were looking at him. Noticing him in the crowd of thousands. Somehow pictures of him and Kurt had surfaced a while ago, and some of the fans must have recognized him from them. It made him feel vulnerable. It would be impossible to run from them with all the bodies dancing around him. Impossible to run away.

* * *

><p><em>They arrived at the hospital 30 minutes after Kurt had gotten the phone call. It felt to both of them like hours, though. Kurt busted through the doors, Blaine hot on his heels, and Kurt almost shouted at the first nurse he spotted. He didn't even bother to go to the reception. <em>

_The orderly pointed him in the direction past the reception and a set of double doors, and they ran like neither of them had ever run before, until Kurt crashed into the arms of his step-mother. _

"_I'm so sorry, Kurt," Carole said, tearing up for what looked to be the hundredth time that day._

_Kurt buried his face into her shoulder. "S' not your fault," he said, his voice muffled. "You know that."_

_After a few minutes they had both calmed down, and Carole spotted Blaine for the first time. "Come here, honey," she said and pulled him into a fierce hug as well. When he stepped back, Kurt was instantly pressed to his side. They all needed someone to lean on. _

"_How is he?" Kurt whispered. _

"_He's in surgery," Carole replied, looking down at Finn, who was half asleep on one of the few chairs in that area. She petted his head affectionately, and left her hand in his hair as she kept talking. She took a shallow breath, her voice hoarse. "They said he might not make it," she said, sounding as strong as she possibly could considering the circumstances. _

_He felt Kurt stiffen at his side, and he tightened his grip on his boyfriend's waist. A few tears now fell from Blaine's eyes as well. But he needed to be strong for Kurt. He reminded himself of this and wiped his tears away with the back of his free hand. _

_An hour later, a doctor came out to see them. He said that Burt had fallen into a coma after the surgery, and with his risky condition they couldn't do anything about it. The heart attack he'd had had been serious. _

"_Can I see him?" Kurt asked, straightening up and leaving Blaine's side for the first time since they had gotten there. _

"_Yes," the doctor said, and Blaine exhaled, knowing that Kurt would go mental if he didn't even get to see his father. "But," the doctor glanced at Blaine, "it's family only. You understand."_

_Kurt looked at him, askance, but he just waved it off. He loved Burt like his own father – actually, he loved Burt more than he could ever love his own – but he went up to Kurt and told him it was alright. _

"_Go see him," he said, trying to sound like the supportive boyfriend Kurt needed him to be even when all he wanted was to go with him. Both to hold Kurt up and to get to fall apart at Burt's side._

* * *

><p>"Now I'm not alone anymore, the doubts that we had are leaving us, I'm not alone anymore, but the world is still deceiving us..."<p>

Kurt had gotten to the song that always reminded Blaine of the both of them. The first time he had heard it he'd even cried. Kurt sang so beautifully. Blaine, along with everyone else, was picked up by the stream of the audience, who were swaying to the slow, melodic song, and Blaine suddenly found himself almost at the front row. So close to the stage that Kurt might even be able to see him. _This is not good, _he thought, looking back at the sea of people behind him. He tried navigating back out of the light emanating from the stage, but one of the fans that recognized him stopped him.

"You're Blaine Anderson," she said, starry-eyed. "Can I have your autograph?" She gave him a scrunched up piece of paper from her jeans pocket and a pen to write with.

It caught him a little off-guard, to be recognized, and almost idolized that way, but he obliged, dapper as always.

The song was going into its final chorus, and the girl was still standing right behind him, torn between grinning at him and watching Kurt. He simply couldn't get away. He looked at the stage, and finally at Kurt, who was now without the coat, sitting on a chair in the middle of the stage, just singing. Despite himself, Blaine couldn't help but stare. It was clearer, this close, the things that were different about Kurt from the time they were together. He was more confident, that's for sure, and his cheeks were rid of that baby fat that had made him so adorable. He still was, though. His hair was a darker brown, and he was smiling, though a single tear made its way down his cheek.

"But it's okay," he sang the last line, "I'm not alone." He closed his eyes, and his chest heaved as he took a deep breath. He seemed as exhausted by that number as he did by the up-beat dance routines. Kurt took one last look at the audience, smiling sadly, before the lights dimmed down and covered the stage in darkness.

Kurt hadn't seen him. As relieved as Blaine was by that, somehow it also made him feel disappointed. He wondered why, as he pushed his way back through the fans, until he came to a spot where he didn't feel quite so exposed.

* * *

><p><em>When Kurt and Carole had left, Blaine sat down next to a recently awakened Finn, who was sitting with his face buried in his hands. <em>

"_I can't believe this," Finn said, and to Blaine's surprise his voice was choked up. He put a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. Finn looked up at him, cheeks stained with tears. "We finally get a real family... I finally get a f-father, and then this happens." _

"_It's going to be okay," Blaine said tentatively. _

"_You don't know that," Finn whispered almost angrily. _

"_You're right," Blaine agreed. "I don't." He blinked away the new tears that were blocking his vision. "But Burt is like a father to me too, and the only thing keeping me together right now – for Kurt... for all of you – is thinking that he's going to be okay."_

_Finn looked at him, not expecting such a statement from his brother's boyfriend, but feeling like it helped – for the moment. He sighed and stood up. "I'm going to go home," he said, his voice soft. "For a couple hours, anyway. You want to come?"_

_Blaine thought about it. It was in the middle of the night now, and he could use some sleep... but he didn't want to leave Kurt. And he didn't want something to happen while he was away. In the end, the pull to stay was greater than the desire to leave. "No..." he attempted to smile at the younger boy. "I think I'll stay."_

* * *

><p>Without actually meaning to, Blaine had ended up at the backstage door through which Kurt was going to walk any moment, to get to his transportation(a limo, Blaine noted with a certain envy). He had really only been looking for a cab. At least that's what he told himself. He stood close to the limo, but he hoped that his face would be as unintelligible to Kurt as the faces of the people on the other side of the partition were to him.<p>

When Kurt came through that door, the noise of the crowd started to build up, and sparks flew as the paparazzi and the fans were competing for the best picture of the star. A less touched-up Kurt dressed in jeans and a cardigan atop a plain t-shirt was bombarded with questions and hands reaching out with notepads, pens, and cameras, wanting autographs and pictures. While Blaine could admit he was a little proud of the fact that he'd had to sign an autograph of his own tonight, he could understand why being famous wouldn't be the best thing in the world at times. He didn't think he would be able to handle it as well as Kurt did, all smiling and talking and doing as much as he could before his bodyguards urged him forward. _Bodyguards? Kurt needs bodyguards now. _Just before he got into his limo, Blaine could have sworn he was looking right at him. They held each other's gaze for a moment, but Kurt had to break away and was in the car before Blaine had managed to convince himself he wasn't dreaming again. Kurt's expression had been indecipherable, but Blaine was still sure he had seen him. Just before Kurt had disappeared, a ghost of a smile had played across his lips. Blaine wondered what it meant. He wondered if it meant anything at all. He wondered why he even came to see his high school – and college – sweetheart. He wondered if he should do it again another time.


	2. It might feel so good

_**A/N: Okay, so... I suck. I couldn't wait a week to post this! I don't know all of the right terms and expressions, but I did my best, and as I failed to mention in my previous author's note, this is unbeta-ed. The next chapter is going to be longer. And better... But I hope you enjoy this one as well! Thank you for reading! Do review, it would make my day!**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, or its characters. **_

Kurt Hummel was now a name most people in the world would know. Kurt found that slightly scary, even though he couldn't be happier with the way his career had turned out. He had always thought that he would end up on Broadway – as his high school rival, Rachel Berry had done – but instead, here he was, about to perform on one of the most prestigious arenas in America. Hell, one of the most prestigious arenas in the world. Lady Gaga had sung here. That was what made it so real for Kurt. He was about to sing in front of thousands of people the same way Lady Gaga, music icon of his generation, had done some years before.

He looked into the mirror in his room backstage, and let his makeup artists – plural – put the finishing touches on his look. His blue eyes really popped with the black eyeliner and faint eye shadow applied around them, and his lips were covered in a sort of lip balm that made them look naturally redder and a little bit shiny. Kurt was confident with the way he looked, and he loved the glittery shirt he was wearing.

"5 minutes, Mr Hummel," One of his managers told him.

Kurt took a deep breath, and checked his mobile one last time before he switched it off. He guarded his cell phone number like a hawk, so only a handful of people knew it. He had two messages wishing him good luck. Well, one of them said 'break a leg' but that was from Rachel so he wasn't surprised. The other was from Finn. Finn, who used to be his brother.

* * *

><p>"<em>Go see him," Blaine told him, looking heartbroken, but determined to be strong. <em>

_Part of Kurt desperately wanted him to go with him, at the same time he didn't want to worry about anyone but his father. He didn't want anything else to have his attention. _

_So, Kurt nodded and gave Blaine's hand a squeeze, before he followed his step-mother through a set of double doors just around the corner. _

_They got to the room where the doctor had said his unconscious father lay, and Kurt and Carole looked anxiously at each other. Carole took his hand and they went in together._

_Kurt gasped as he saw his father laying on that bed, tubes sticking out from his throat and his arms, looking more pale than he had ever seen him. He walked slowly over to him and grasped his hand in his. "Oh, dad," he said weakly. Carole went over to Burt's other side and took his left hand lightly in hers. _

"_A lot of people love him," she said to Kurt. "You, me, Finn and Blaine. His sister and... your mother did." She reached over the bed and held Kurt's hand in a comforting grip. They made a circle. Kurt was holding Burt's hand, Burt was 'holding' Carole's, and Carole was holding Kurt's. They made a family. And all Kurt could think about as he stood by his family, was that he might lose it any minute. "I love him so much," he said, ignoring the way his voice broke. _

"_I know, honey," Carole said in a similar tone. "Me too."_

_She watched as Kurt bent down to kiss his father's cheek carefully, as if he was made of glass._

* * *

><p>"Time to go, Mr Hummel," the manager hustled him up out of his chair and hurried him along to the edge of the stage. Kurt looked timidly out at it. Faced with such a large stage to fill, he instantly felt like the ultimately insecure boy he had been back in high school and college.<p>

* * *

><p>"<em>You can do it, Kurt," Blaine nudged him gently onto the stage, and a hesitant applause sounded through the auditorium. It was his freshman year in college. What the hell was he thinking, going out there intending to sing to every student and teacher involved with the esthetics program he was taking? As he walked up to the microphone and tried to conjure up some confidence, Blaine's words echoed through his mind. "You can do it." <em>

_He grabbed the microphone and cued the music to start. He knew he could._

* * *

><p>At the edge of the Madison Square Garden stage, just out of sight for the audience, Kurt Hummel heard the same words echo through his mind, as real as they had been that night in college. He didn't mean to use Blaine's words as courage, he really didn't, but he couldn't help it if his former boyfriend's voice popped up in his head every time he was feeling nervous about doing something. The light started flicking. That was his cue. He walked confidently out on the massive stage, microphone already in his hand, and started the show of his life.<p>

"Hi, everyone."

The show was over, and Kurt was back in his room backstage, cleaning off the makeup and changing into some more comfortable clothes. When finished, he made his way outside, so used to the bodyguards that he barely even noticed them anymore.

The fans were lined up outside two partitions on either side of him and they all demanded his attention. He smiled and let them take his picture, he signed almost all of the notepads, arms and pieces of clothing(except the more risqué ones) held out to him. It was important for him to be close to his fans, because that's what he had wanted from his idols when he was younger. He was just about to enter his limo and close the door behind him, when he thought he spotted a familiar face among the crowd. Kurt caught his eyes for a second, golden, hazel eyes that brought back many memories. Kurt inhaled sharply.

Blaine.

* * *

><p>"<em>I'm sorry, Kurt," Doctor Pedersen said earnestly. "But Burt's heart stopped two hours ago. Your father is dead."<em>

_Kurt fell down onto the seat he had been resting on before the doctor came. Tears instantly found his eyes and Kurt started hyperventilating. _I'm never going to see my dad again, _he thought. _What was the last thing I said to him? I love you? Take care of yourself? See you soon?

_Kurt sobbed at the last thought and buried his face in his hands. It felt like the world had stopped._

* * *

><p>Blaine stared at him with an expression like a deer in the headlights.<p>

Kurt kept his face schooled into an expression of nonchalance, even though he was starting to panic. He took one last, calming breath, looked Blaine squarely in the eyes and attempted to smile. Blaine's features softened in response. He looked like there were so many things he could say.

Kurt got into the car, closed the door, and made himself forget who he just saw. He convinced himself that he had imagined his high school sweetheart staring at him, his ex-boyfriend who had been so good to him, who he had all but abandoned when his father had died. Ten years ago.

**_A/N: I apologize for the bad ending, I really do. Also for the ruler things. I hope they're not too annoying. _**


	3. But I've got you stuck on my mind

**_A/N: This is finally done. I extended it a bit from what I originally wrote. I think I like it. Tell me what you think 'cause I'm a little hesitant when it comes to this chapter(even though I think it's better than the last one...)._**

**_ Chapter 4 is under construction, but it might take me a while. _**

**_Disclaimer: Neither Glee, nor its characters belong to me. They are the property of FOX, Ryan Murphy and Co. The poem used in the end is "Funeral Blues" by W.H Auden._**

* * *

><p><em>Blaine had been sitting on that chair for hours, waiting for someone to give him an update on the situation. When that update finally came, he didn't get it from Kurt, but from Carole. She barely even had to say anything. Her expression said it all: bloodshot eyes, quivering lips. He got the sense that she had given up. He launched himself into her arms, wanting to hear it wasn't true. But <em>trying_ to prepare himself for it to be._

"_He's..?" he tried to ask, but the words wouldn't leave his lips. He was trembling, just as she was, even though she tried not to let on. "He's dead?" he croaked. Carole only nodded mutely and resumed to stroke his unruly hair. He cried into her shoulder. _

_After his initial shock and grief, his first thought was of Kurt. He must be devastated. "Where's Kurt?"_

"_He's..." she sniffled. "He's saying goodbye."_

* * *

><p>Blaine went through the weeks after the concert in a haze. Kurt had seen him. He knew he had. But he hadn't acknowledged him in the group of fans. Maybe because he didn't want to point him out. Expose his past. But Blaine knew him. At least he used to. And it seemed to him that Kurt just didn't want to remember.<p>

For 10 years he had gone through a number of relationships, some more meaningful than others. He couldn't say his life had been one whole dreary emptiness without Kurt. He had learned to move past it. Learned to keep it out of his mind.

* * *

><p><em>Nick's lips landed on his and he was pushed roughly against the wall. "Nick!" he tried to object, but ended up moaning into the older boy's mouth when he grabbed Blaine's hips and ground them against his own. He picked him up and carried him over to his couch, and Blaine was surprised because Nick didn't look that strong. They collapsed on the cushions together, lips never leaving each other.<em>

_They ended up having sex on Nick's sofa. Blaine could still count the number of times he had had sex on one hand. None of them had really been about _making love,_ except for the first. When he was laying there, snuggled close together with Nick on his couch, covered in a blanket that had been laying at their feet, he closed his eyes. Nick was already sleeping, his head resting on Blaine's chest. Just on the edge of sleeping himself, Blaine imagined Kurt resting on top of him. He didn't mean to. The image just sprang to mind. He reached out to touch Nick's soft hair, that was in reality red and nothing like Kurt's, but to him in his state of almost-sleep and his closed eyes, it was Kurt's silky smooth, brown hair he was stroking. In his mind it was Kurt's small hand that was clutching his side unconsciously as he dreamt. It was the first time he had allowed himself to really think about Kurt since the initial shock had passed, and Blaine had left Ohio because he had to. Two years ago, Burt had died. All had gone wrong._

* * *

><p>Before the concert, Blaine had even thought that he had moved on. But seeing Kurt again – even though they didn't speak to each other – had opened up old wounds he'd forgotten he had.<p>

Now they were bleeding like they did 10 years ago, with no chance of healing, since Kurt's face was on every other billboard in town, and his voice on the radio every single day. He tried to forget their not-even-an-encounter, but no such luck. Blaine really wanted to have the breakup talk they'd never had, once and for all. So he just decided to follow Kurt's tour down to Ohio, their old home, in the off-chance that he'd get to speak to him. But first he had a few days of work left.

Kurt couldn't afford to lose focus. The concert in Madison Square Garden had been the first of 50, all over the world. He was starting with a tour of the US. He was starting with Ohio. He quite liked to talk to the person on his PR team who had decided that. Maybe put them down a few notches on the career-ladder.

Ohio was a place he rarely liked to visit anymore. There were too many memories.

* * *

><p><em>Kurt stared at his father's lifeless body in the hospital bed. All of the instruments and tubes had been disconnected, and it left Burt looking abandoned. The doctors had abandoned him. Kurt felt so angry. Nothing felt real. Not the absolute silence in the room, not the lack of rise and fall of Burt's chest as he <em>didn't_ breathe, and not the endless drops of salty water running down Kurt's cheeks. Some of them fell into his open mouth, leaving a sticky taste in it, but most of them dropped down on his red scarf and white t-shirt underneath. None of it was happening, Kurt was convinced. He had to be dreaming. _

_He went up to his father's side and looked at his hand. He hesitated before he took it, something he never used to do. He was startled at how cold it felt. Not ice cold, like the time Burt had gone out to shovel snow and forgotten his gloves, just cold. Sort of... dead. Kurt pulled his hand back like he had been electrocuted. He backed up until he felt the wall behind him. This wasn't how he wanted to remember his father. Cold, dead, abandoned, in a sterile hospital. The body in the bed might look like his father, but he wasn't there anymore. It didn't _feel_ like he was there anymore. Kurt couldn't breathe. He snatched his scarf off and threw it on the floor, horrified and lonely. He had gone in there with the intention of saying goodbye. He covered his mouth with the hand he had used to hold Burt's and sank to the floor. He sobbed. Why say goodbye to someone who wasn't there anymore?_

_That was how Blaine found him, 20 minutes later. They clung to each other as the coroner came and took Burt's body away. Blaine kept whispering to him that things were going to be okay. But Kurt knew they weren't._

* * *

><p>"Of course I'll come see you on your opening night, Rach!" Kurt smiled into the phone. "Just be prepared that some of my fans might disturb your performance." Sometimes it was troublesome to be famous.<p>

"I'm sure they'll be perfectly respectful. And enthralled with my voice and exuberating persona, of course."

"Of course," Kurt was multitasking. He had to pack for his tour, that would be embarked-upon three days from now. The next day he was going to the premiere of the Broadway revival of Rent, in which Rachel would play Mimi.

"Oh, and by the way?"

"Mm?" He carefully folded another outfit into one of the three suitcases he was going to bring on tour. Rachel wasn't top priority, but he liked talking to her from time to time. She and Mercedes were the only McKinley kids he was still friends with. There was Finn, of course, but he was family so he didn't count.

"You'll never believe who I saw on the set of Wicked when I visited one of my friends!" Rachel gushed.

Kurt was less than impressed. She did this all the time. "Who?" he said, not pausing what he was doing.

"Blaine Anderson," she said reverently, as if the name held some special meaning to Kurt.

By the way his breath hitched and his sliding down to sit on his bed, amongst his designer clothes, she was probably right.

But Kurt would rather throw his Prada suit out the window than acknowledge that. "Oh," he said, attempting to sound nonchalant.

"He was working as an extra, poor thing. I told him I'd hook him up with a speaking part at least..." Rachel kept talking, but Kurt found he had trouble understanding her. "...so I told him to come tomorrow!" Until she said that.

"You did what?" he shrieked.

"I told him to come," she stated. "Look, I know you've had your issues, but isn't it time to put all of that behind you and be friends?" Rachel paused, waiting for an answer. Kurt would have felt honored, if he had cared, because she didn't do that very often. After a few seconds she continued prodding. "At least acquaintances?"

Kurt sighed. She was right. There was no need to be so dramatic about it. It wasn't as if Blaine had been mean with him. No. It was Kurt who had broken _his _heart. "Yeah, alright," he gave in and stood up again. "I gotta' go," he said sharply. "See you tomorrow."

"See you, honey! It's going to be-"

Kurt hung up on her. More than 10 years of being friends and he still couldn't stand her at times.

Him and Blaine... It was complicated. It was all Kurt's fault. At the same time it wasn't. His first reactions were what tore them apart. He wasn't to blame for them. It's just that he could have handled what happened afterwards much better.

* * *

><p><em>For the first few days Kurt was practically attached to Blaine's hip. He was constantly crying on his boyfriend's shoulder, falling apart every fifteen minutes. It occurred to him, once, that Blaine might have found this annoying, but he discarded that thought because even if that was the case, Kurt wouldn't have cared. Also, he knew that Blaine felt almost as bad as he did, and was crying a lot too. Pretty much the only thing Kurt could think about was his father, and every time he caught himself thinking about something else, he felt guilty.<em>

_Kurt thought about everything Burt would miss. Seeing Kurt get married in the future, growing old with Carole... And that brought back the memories of Kurt's mother as well, and at times he felt like he was grieving two parents at once. _

_The funeral was the worst for Kurt. It wasn't like what you saw in the movies, where the character was all numb and quiet throughout the service. It wasn't like his mother's funeral. Back then he'd had somebody to take care of him. His father had been there. They had been each other's rock. This time, he just felt completely alone. _

_Blaine was sitting on his left, Carole on his right, as one of Burt's friend's from the garage took the stand to speak about Burt. Kurt was inconsolable. Not even Blaine was able to calm him down. _

"_Kurt, honey," Blaine said in a soft voice, not completely devoid of tears. "I know it hurts."_

"_I can't-" Kurt began a sentence, but got nowhere, much like it had been all week. He just didn't know what to say anymore. He was starting to get tired of all the crying. He was starting to get tired of people saying supposedly comforting things. Were they supposed to make him feel better?_

"_I know," Blaine tried to pull him in against his chest, but Kurt shrugged away. He looked at the closed, wooden coffin at the end of the aisle. His father's body was in there. It was the thought he couldn't banish from his mind. There was the body that he had leaned on so many times, that had hugged him and made him feel secure, the body of his father was laying there, cold and pumped full of chemicals. It was all just too much._

* * *

><p>Kurt found an old picture he still kept in his phone. He transferred it to every new phone he bought, along with two others. This one was of him and Blaine, kissing in Breadstix. The McKinley girls had been with them, and they had slightly creepily demanded a demonstration of their affections during Kurt's senior year of High School. Kurt and Blaine hadn't been big on PDA, save for holding hands of course. He wasn't sure, but he thought it was Tina who had snatched his phone and taken the picture. For that, he was her eternally grateful. It was a beautiful picture of both of them, especially Blaine, and it displayed the love they'd shared so well. Both had their eyes open, Blaine's hand resting lightly on his chest, and Kurt's snaking its way up to his boyfriend's boisterous hair.<p>

Kurt couldn't help but smile.

He was dreading the next day, so much that he got a lump in his throat not even a little whisky could wash down. But he was looking forward to it as well. So much that he couldn't sleep until 2:30am. He cursed himself for that, because he knew it would result in dark circles under his eyes. When he finally did fall asleep, he dreamt some weird combination of him and Blaine being chased by rainbow sheep, and Kurt trying to kiss him, though the other boy wouldn't let him.

In the morning he was glad that he had forgotten most of it.

* * *

><p><em>Blaine stood at the microphone, papers in his hands. He looked at Kurt, searching for something it seemed. Then he cleared his throat and addressed the people sitting in the church. Kurt hadn't wanted the funeral to be in a church, but in the end it was the most practical. It wasn't as if Kurt had much energy to argue anyway.<em>

"_Um," Blaine began. "Kurt Hummel, Burt's son, asked me to read this today. I know how much he loved his father." Again he looked at Kurt, making both of them struggle with tears. But Blaine pulled himself together. "I know I did. He embraced me into the family, and made me feel more of a son to him than my own father ever has. So Kurt... W-wanted me to read this. It's by W.H Auden." He took a deep breath. Kurt's heart clenched. He was alone. _

"_Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,  
>Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone.<br>Silence the pianos and with muffled drum  
>Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.<em>

_Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead  
>Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead,<br>Put crépe bows round the white necks of the public doves,  
>Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.<em>

_He was my North, my South, my East and West,  
>My working week and my Sunday rest,<br>My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song,  
>I thought that love would last forever: 'I was wrong'<em>

_The stars are not wanted now, put out every one;  
>Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;<br>Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.  
>For nothing now can ever come to any good."<em>

_So alone._

* * *

><p><strong><em>(AN: yes I got it from Four Weddings and a Funeral... It's one of my favorite films. And definitely one of my favorite poems.) _**


End file.
